


Faulty Stitches

by PastelBun



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean tried, Gen, Hurt Dean, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Series, Sam cannot believe the level of Dean's stupid, Stanford Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 20:07:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5883862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelBun/pseuds/PastelBun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[2 years Pre-Series, Dean at the age of 24, Stanford-Era Sam.]</p>
<p>“You’re an idiot, you know that!” Sam cries throwing his hands out to his sides and before dropping them. He begins pacing.<br/>“I’m flattered you remember so much about me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faulty Stitches

**Author's Note:**

> idk i just set the rating at T for mild language i guess. though i don't exactly 100% sure what the scale of horribleness is for language is as far as swearing goes so...

Dean walks up to the door and takes his hands out of his leather jacket, pulling it on tighter and running a hand through his wet hair. He knocks. A few moments later the door opens.  
It’s Sam. He’s in pajamas. It must be late.  
“Wow, you sure know how to dress to impress.” Dean laughs a little, leaning against Sam’s doorframe. He’s got one hand clutching onto his side.  
“Dean? What the hell are you doing here?” Sam sounds irritated. He’d left them 2 years ago. He’d put this all behind him. _He didn’t need this._ He was angry and  _he didn’t need this._ “If you and Dad are—”  
“Relax, Dad’s not here. We got into a uh… disagreement a couple weeks back and decided to take some time apart and hunt solo. He went one way and I went the other.” Dean shrugs a little. “I just happened to be in town and thought I’d st—”  
“Are you bleeding?” Sam sounds a little more alarmed now that he’s noticed the stain on Dean’s shirt where he’s been clutching.  
“Very observant Sammy. You always were a smart kid.” Dean flashes a fragile grin at his brother.  
Sam has an internal argument about whether or not he should make a face and tell Dean it’s not Sammy anymore, it’s _Sam_ , but his brother’s idiocy and the blood loss Dean is sporting trump these feelings. Sam pulls his brother inside the apartment and shuts the door. He drags Dean over to a chair and sits him down.

“You’re an idiot, you know that!” Sam cries throwing his hands out to his sides and before dropping them. He begins pacing.  
“I’m flattered you remember so much about me.”  
“What the hell happened? I know you know how to stitch yourself up.” Sam stops in front of Dean and pulls his older brother’s jacket off. Dean is a completely idiot and if Sam doesn’t do something Dean will probably pass out from blood loss or something.  
“Heh… ghosts you know?” Dean winces a little when Sam lifts up his shirt. “Guess the stitches might have come undone.”  
“What did it do?  Stab you with a knife?” Sam raises an eyebrow.  
“Funny thing actually… You see—”  
“You seriously got stabbed by a _ghost?_ ”  
“It really had that whole being able to move stuff with their mind—”  
“Telekinesis.”  
“Yeah, they had that shit down. And uh… also just being able to pick stuff up and hold it. But uh… You see, I wasn’t prepared for it, thought it was something else entirely so I panicked and pulled my knife out and—”  
“A ghost stole your knife and stabbed you? What, did it steal your wallet and run off too?”  
Dean looks away, licking his lips as his younger brother tries to clean up the blood.  
“You’re kidding me, right?” Sam stops what he’s doing. “You got mugged by a ghost Dean?”  
Dean bounces his head back and fourth a little still not looking at Sam.  
“Oh my god. You got _mugged by a ghost_. Are you sure it wasn’t a homeless guy?” Sam snorts.  
“Yes, Sam. It wasn’t a homeless guy. I was mugged by a friggin’ ghost, okay!” Dean raises his voice and the hair on the back of his neck bristles.  
“But why would a ghost steal your wallet?”  
Dean shrugs. “The guy was a mugger when he was alive. There was this alley bunch‘a people showed up dead in and every vic had their wallets and other valuables missing.”  
“And you thought this was a ghost and not just some homeless guy because why?”  
“That’s the real kicker Sammy. All the deaths were caused from internal injuries without any sign of blunt force trauma. Plus I did some digging and turns out there was some local lore about how whenever you walked through there batteries on stuff like your phone would instantly died. At first I just thought the mugging was a coincidence and probably happened because a dead body was easy pickin’, you know? But then I got weird EVP reading all over a couple of the vics bags, jacket pockets, that sorta stuff.”  
“So you knew there was a ghost in the alley… but you panicked and pulled a knife on it anyways.”  
“Shut up. I thought I heard something else too.” Dean frowns reflexively when he spots Sam smiling at him.  
“Yeah? What the Lord Satan himself?” Sam really shouldn’t be smiling at his brother’s fumbles, but that’s never stopped him before.  
“Actually yeah.” Dean rubs at his nose.  
“Does Satan happen to walk on all fours and chase mice?”  
Dean pitches forwards sneezing sharply into the back of his wrist and winces. “He might.”  
“Dude, please don’t tell me you seriously pulled a knife out because you thought you heard a cat.”  
“I didn’t just hear it Sam. It friggin’ rushed me and latched into my leg.” Dean insistent. “Hey, don’t you laugh. You would’a done the same thing.”  
“Uh no Dean. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t.” Sam carefully removes the last of the ineffective stitches. Of course Sam also wasn’t allergic to cats and didn’t harbor any sort of animosity towards them.  
“You would if you met that fuzz ball of rage.” Dean mutters under his breath and sniffs.  
“How’d you undo your stitches?” Sam holds a rag to Dean’s side and looks for something to stitch Dean up with. Right. There was floss in the bathroom. Sam makes sure Dean is firmly holding the rag before leaving to grab that. Dean wouldn’t drive over to Sam’s apartment if he was already bleeding. So whatever had cause them to undo had to be recent. When Sam returns with the floss, a needle and some alcohol Dean is crumpled over coughing awfully loudly into the back of his hand. Oh. Dean looks up at Sam when Sam gets closer.  
“I was a little dizzy when I did my own stitches. Probably wasn’t my best work.” Dean smiles weakly and takes the alcohol from Sam and takes a swig. Good boy Sammy for being an underage drinker and having this in your place. Dean winces again when Sam starts stitching him up. “The joke was on that ghost though.”  
“What?”  
“I didn’t have anything in my wallet. Broke ass son of a bitch is what I am. The cards in there aren’t any good anymore. I wish I could see the look on that jackass’ face when it gets declined.” Dean laughs sadly.  
“Right, because a ghost is going to walk into a store and try to use your fake credit cards.”  
“Not anymore he ain’t.” Dean grins. “Torched that fucker a few hours ago.”  
  
It’s quiet for a bit. Dean clears his throat and sniffs.  
  
“How long have you had that cough?”  
“Dunno,” Dean shrugs. “Few weeks… Maybe a month or two.”  
Sam finishes up the stitches and stares at his brother.  
“What?” Dean quirks an eyebrow.  
“Dude. A month or two?”  
“It’s not a big deal. I can still hunt.”  
“You got mugged by a ghost.”  
“I didn’t die. I’m okay Sammy.”  
“Your stitches reopened and—” Sam is infuriated. “Dad had to of known when you two parted ways. He left you to hunt alone while you were sick.”  
“He knows I’m not a fuckin' baby who needs his hand held Sam.”  
“Dean you should go to a doctor if you’ve had a cough that long and you sure as hell shouldn’t be hunting!” Sam stands up.  
“It’s been real nice chatting with you but I should probably get going.” Dean gets up from the chair, putting his jacket on, and heads towards the door. Something grabs the back of the leather coat and keeps him from going any further.  
“No. You’re staying.” Sam pulls Dean back.  
“I love it when you get all controlling like that Sam. It makes me feel all tingly inside.” Dean smiles at his own joke. He’ll have to use that one again some time. His smile fades. Dean’s whole life had been spent taking care of Sam. Being in charge of Sam. The brother he loved so much.  
Sam musters up  a bitch face at Dean and pulls the older brother’s jacket off. He turns Dean around and puts both his hands of Dean’s shoulders. Sam is holding him firmly in place. Sam isn’t a little scared kid anymore.  
“There’s a shower in the bathroom to the left. You’re spending the night and I’m driving you to the clinic tomorrow morning before my classes.” Sam _looks_ at Dean. Dean opens his mouth to reply but isn’t fast enough. “Dude. You’re my brother and I hate you because you’re an asshole, but I love you and I’m not going to let you get yourself killed for being an idiot.”  
“Sam.”  
“No Dean, listen to me. Go take a shower you dumbass. But keep the stitches dry.” Sam pats Dean’s shoulder before letting go. “I’ll drag you in there if I have to.”  
Dean swallows and nods. In the bathroom he shucks off his clothes and stands there for a minute. Dean brushes his hands against his shoulders where Sam had grabbed onto him. That was new. Sam had never… It was always Dean’s job to command Sam around and make sure he was okay.  
Dean climbs into the shower. He’s missed Sam so much. Dean turns the water on. But the Sam he remembers was small. Dean presses his forehead to the wall of the shower. The Sam he remembers always needed to be looked after. The water slowly beings to heats up. The Sam he remembers gets nervous when he’s left alone in the dark. Dean breathes out heavy. The Sam he remembers still counts on his fingers. Dean sniffles and drags a hand under his nose. The Sam he remembers watches Saturday morning cartoons with his big brother. Dean takes a step back when things start to feel too warm. The Sam he remembers lost a tooth, accidentally swallowed it, and then cried when he totally believed his brother when he said the tooth fairy would have to cut him open when she visited that night to take the tooth. Dean coughs into his first. The Sam he remembers needed Dean. But now—With one misstep Dean stumbles in the shower and attempts to catch himself on the curtain. Unfortunately, it’s far too slippery and he finds himself crashing down on his ass.  
There’s a loud knocking on the door that sounds frantic.  
“Son of a…” Dean groans under his breath.  
“Dean? Are you okay in there?! What’s wrong? Did you fall?”  
Dean freezes. _Oh god._ Yeah. This is what he needs. Sam to know he can’t even take a shower without hurting himself. Sam who doesn’t need him anymore.  
“No. I uh—I’m fine.” Dean’s voice cracks. “But uh… your shower sucks ass worse than the one at the motel. I feel like I’m being gently pissed on.”  
“Sorry. The water pressure is broken.” Sam’s voice sounds like it’s calmed down. “I put some blankets and a pillow on the couch so you can lie down after you’ve dried off. Don’t spend all night in there or I’ll charge your broke ass with my water bill.”  
Dean laughs tiredly but he’s smiling nonetheless. “Shut up. Bitch.”  
Dean can hear the faint sound of Sam’s voice replying with _jerk_ as the younger brother walks away from the door.  
Even if Sam didn’t need Dean anymore… Dean sure as hell can’t bare to keep living without Sam.


End file.
